It happened so quickly. We had stopped, on the runway, and I decided to get out my Pentax—I liked the way the lights lit up the sky a dusky orange, a warm glow forming a horizon line dotted with orbs of light. So I pressed my lens against the window, felt the shutter click heavy and real in my hands. And after, I bent down to wrestle it back into it's bag. But when I came back up, my window was filled with the most beautiful fluffy white smoke. I had no idea where it was coming from, at first, and I was taken and carried away with wonder. So the Pentax was wrestled back out. The shutter heavy in my hands again. And I, for a brief moment, filled with innocent wonder. Something so fast—clenched heart, dive to bag, I must, must, must capture this moment. I refuse to let it slip by my fingers.